


To Scratch an Itch

by kissmelikeapirate



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 12:51:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissmelikeapirate/pseuds/kissmelikeapirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Home, finally.<br/>Things will now get back to normal for Emma Swan, right?<br/>If so why is she does she find herself drawn to him. Why can't she stay away...</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Scratch an Itch

It was dark, and only a faint outline of the door was visible. She walked carefully; side stepping the floorboard that was known to creak on occasion. No one could know.

The air was cool with the clean chill of a winters evening. The coldness heightened all her senses - the smooth bare wood against her feet, the tiny imperfections of the wall that she ran her hand along and the nervous fluttering of her heart. Through the clutter of her thoughts the one thing she knew was where she was headed: to him.

* * *

This wasn't meant to happen. They had made it home – triumphantly so. Against the cheers of the greeting crowd, they had disembarked the Jolly Roger. Their friends in Storybrooke were eager to hear of the rescue. Now things were meant to be simple. This was the time when life could begin anew: the curse broken, Henry home and things could be normal again. Well, as normal as it could ever been in a town populated by story book characters. Stood on the docks of Storybrooke, bathed in early winter sun, she had smiled with relief. But even as she answered questions and returned every warm embrace, a part of her was elsewhere.

She knew he was watching her. He had stayed aside from the main welcoming party; perhaps he felt out of place with no friends or loved ones to greet him. The thumb of his good hand lay slung into the belt around his waist and his head was dipped as he observed the proceedings. She wondered if anyone had noticed how his dark gaze followed her as she moved through the thronging crowd. Perhaps not. Most likely they were all consumed by the joy of their reunions. But she knew. It felt like the prickling of tiny needles across her skin – not exactly painful, but on the verge uncomfortable. What did he want? Inside she scoffed. She knew exactly what he wanted; he had been explicitly clear on that point. She remembered his exact words about their return, 'That's where the fun begins.'

No, she told herself as she gave Ruby a warm hug. This was where things became settled. Regular. Normal. Finally she had this chance at a real family and everything she had missed out on as a child. She shook off the tingling feeling in her spine. Her family were her focus. Nothing else.

The sound of someone shouting distracted her from her thoughts. Belle was stood on a wooden crate, trying to address the crowd.

"Everyone, listen! Everyone!"

Slowly the chattering of the crowd turned into a low murmur as all eyes shifted towards her. She gazed down at Rumple, her eyes sparkling, as she spoke, "I know we are all so, so grateful and happy for the safe return of our friends, and loved ones." She held her hand out and Rumple wrapped his in hers and squeezed gently. "So I suggest a party –a celebration. Tonight at Grannies, everyone welcome. What do you say?"

A roaring cheer arose in the crowd and fists were raised in acceptance. Hook, still alone at one side, was conspicuous in his silence. However his absence did not go unnoticed. David's voice rose above the din, "And Captain Hook, you will join us? Without you and the Jolly Roger this would not have been possibly."

He didn't reply, instead he simply gave a low, slow bow as a smile flickered over his lips.

* * *

She had half hoped the celebration might be over by the time she reached the diner. Despite the protestations of her parents, she had insisted she needed to check in at the Sheriff's office; get a few things in order. Life was returning to normal now, after all.

At Grannies, the windows were steamed over; such was the amount of people inside. As she pushed open the door she removed her woolen scarf and leather jacket, the thick, damp atmosphere hitting her like a brick wall. Her cheeks began to glow from the sudden change in temperature as she made her way to a booth across the room where Henry sat drinking hot chocolate. Ruffling his hair, she placed a kiss on his forehead as she tossed her jacket onto the seat beside him. He looked happy, but tired. She would have to take him home soon.  _Good, s_ he told herself,  _a reason to leave._

Before she could speak to her son, a frosty mug of beer was thrust into her hand by a merry looking Ruby who gave her a wink and whispered in her ear, "I think someone has been waiting for you." She nodded her head in the direction of the bar where a coatless Hook sat alone sipping a tumbler of dark liquid, his sharp profile highlighted by the light coming from the kitchen. One foot rested on the rung of the stool he sat on, whilst the other was stretched out to meet the silver bar that ran just above the floor around the counter top. He wore the same black leather vest he had worn throughout their time in Neverland –perhaps pirates were unconcerned by unwashed clothes, she wondered.

He looked out of place, yet strangely at home at the same time. His presence was vivid and thick. Against the background of happy and merry patrons, his solitude was in stark contrast: one that he owned in a way she had never quite seen before. As Henry moved away to where his grandmother stood, she took a mouthful of beer. The feel of the frothy liquid trickling down her throat was a welcome memory of home. Coolness flooded her body, followed by a small shiver and a renewed sense of purpose. Licking her lips, she strode over to where Hook sat and placed her glass on the bar beside him.

"Hello Swan," he smiled, not turning his attention from his own drink. "How does it feel to have a hero's welcome?"

She slid her elbows onto the counter top and wrapped her fingers around the mug. It was now covered in condensation and small droplets of water began to trail down the glass and dampened her hands. "I am  _not_ a hero," she replied, tracing away a drop of water with her thumb.

"I think the residents of Storybrooke would beg to differ." He gestured towards the mass of people behind them. Smiling, laughing,  _happy._

"All I care about is that my son is safe. That he is home, with me, where he belongs." She was raising her glass to take another drink when he caught her eye, his head cocked.

"And he is. Because of  _you._ "

His dark rimmed eyes were a clear, watery blue – even in the scant light of the diner. He held her gaze steady as the seconds past. The sincerity of his words was reflected in his open expression. His face no longer held the mocking, arrogant lilt of the pirate with the innuendo laden tongue. The man before her was something else. It was the man who had begun to emerge in the jungles of Neverland.

"You played your part," she protested, her fingers tightening around her glass as she felt his eyes still upon her. Why did he stare at her?

She didn't reply. Instead she drank in the scent of him. He was so close. The familiar musky smell of leather surrounded him like a cloak and drowned her in its wake. For a second, she felt herself drift off. She was on the ocean, on a ship – his ship. The smell of fresh salty air filled her lungs. Waves crashed against its hull, dusting a fine spray of sea water across her face. She could taste the ocean on her lips. It was the essence of freedom; sweet freedom.

"Emma."

She felt a warm hand on her shoulder, it was David. Her  _father._ Would she ever get used to calling him that?

"Hi David," she whispered as he paused beside her.

"How was the office? Did Storybrooke collapse into chaos in your absence?"

She smiled softly at his gentle mocking tone. Her father was one of the more perceptive men in her life, seeing through her as though she were made of glass.

"No, anarchy and disorder were happily averted. But don't forget you're back to work on Monday."

"Yes boss," he laughed. He turned his attention to the brooding pirate who had thus far remained quiet. "Hook - I don't think I had the chance to say thank you for all your help with Henry-"

"Gratitude is not necessary," he replied softly, as he caught Emma's eye once more, something unspoken in his look, "I am merely pleased to have been of service."

David nodded at his words, not pressing him any further. "Still, Mary Margaret and I have been talking and we'd like to invite you to stay with us, until you decide on your next move."

A cool trickle ran through her as she registered his words. With  _us_ meant with her. Hook. In her home. A few doors away-

"I'm sure the captain would prefer to stay with his ship," she protested,

"Is that what you want Hook? It's pretty cold this time of year on the dock."

His good hand began to trace along the smooth surface in front of him, seemingly lost in contemplation. He sat a little straighter as he took a deep breath. David prodded him once more. "How about it?"

Finally, his head tilted to one side and a slim smile emerged on his lips. "I think," he began, turning to face the other man, "That a warm bed on dry land may do me good for a night or two. Thank you." He punctuated his words with a dip of his head – slow and deliberate.

"Good," nodded David, his smile simple and honest.

"But-" he began, "Perhaps now you could call me Killian? That is after all, my God given name."

David nodded, reaching out to shake his hand, "Killian," he repeated.

As much as he was speaking to her father, she felt that his words were somehow for her. What was he doing? No, she didn't really want him here, not after that kiss… It was dangerous. As she had made abundantly clear, Henry was her focus. Another part of her tried to silence this voice – why does this bother you? It's just Hook-  _Killian,_ he is a friend, an ally, it would be wrong to push him away.

"It's late, I'd better take Henry home," she announced as she slipped from her seat and drank the remainder of her mug of beer.

"Oh," David frowned, "Regina took him for the night, I thought it would-"

Her pained expression halted him. So, her first night home and her son would not be with her. Not quite the evening she had anticipated.

"It's fine," she replied, shaking her anxiety away, "We have all the time in the world to spend together."

"Okay, I'd better go find your mother. I'll see you at home."

As David moved away she signaled to Ruby, holding up the large glass until her friend nodded.

Within minutes a new beer appeared beneath her, "Bottoms up," she muttered to herself, smiling wryly as she sunk half the drink in one go.

"Quite the drinker, aren't we Swan?"

His voice was slippery and silky, melting over her. Staring into the bottom of her glass, she replied, "Perhaps I am. Remember, you don't know all that much about me."

Though a statement, there was a challenge in her words – a test to push him to say something more. Why did she want that? Her head was beginning to buzz slightly; perhaps it was the beer, or maybe something else…

"I know enough." Those dark rimmed eyes of earlier now burned into her as she looked up. Caught in his gaze, she found herself frozen as something intangible passed between the two. It was something she had felt before with him, on more than one occasion, then it had been easy to brush off. But now he was mere inches away, in a crowded room, there was no escape from the intensity that swelled forth.

Transfixed she watched as he picked up his glass and took a long, leisurely sip of the liquid – not once taking his eyes from her.

The silence that followed was palpable. His presence and proximity was becoming unbearable – if she didn't get away from him soon, she was worried what might happen next: her mind was becoming a cacophony of emotion. The heat in the room suddenly became unbearable, flooding her body and making her skin burn.

"I need to get some air," she croaked as the slid of the stool and stumbled quickly towards the door.

But even as she reached the frigid night air, she could still feel his eyes upon her. Never faltering.

* * *

Outside the guest room she paused.  _What the hell was she doing there?_ Waves of sobriety washed over her. With a deep breath she began to tip toe backwards into the darkness.

_Too late._

The door creaked open and a shadowy face appeared. "Swan?" he whispered hoarsely.

"I, um-"

She stared blankly at her detector.

"What do you want?" he asked. Too loud, he was too damn loud. Someone would hear.

"Shhhh!" she commanded, stepping closer to him and noticing the way one eyebrow arched at her exclamation, "Everyone is sleeping."

With a half-smile, he opened the door further, "Well apparently not my dear as you and I both appear to be awake."

She gave him an irritated look, before placing her hand firmly on his chest and pushing him backwards into the room. Once inside, she slowly closed the door –holding her breath and listening for the sounds that would reveal someone had awoken.

"My my, this realm's Swan is very forward," he teased. The small window in the room was open, letting in a cool breeze. She wrapped her arms around her body. She suddenly felt very exposed in her pajama pants and tank top.

"Shut up," she muttered. She needed to think.  _Why was she here?_

It was then she noticed that he lacked his usual pirate attire. How stupid –of course he wouldn't sleep in that. Her mind became filled with images of what a pirate would sleep in on board his ship… Nothing?

As it was he was wearing a pair of David's sweats. They clung criminally low on his hips with a dark trail leading downwards from his stomach. He was bare elsewhere, save for the pendants that he seemed to permanently wear.

"Now, as much as I'd like to assume that my simple allure is what caused you to seek me out this evening I assume it was not, so pray tell me how I can help you." He tipped his head and widened his eyes. His hook was gone, she realized; it was sat on the small, white table next to the bed. She had never seen him without it, his left arm looked strange - naked almost.

"Your hook…"she began, not answering his question.

"Didn't want to damage this lovely bed and I'm pretty sure this abode is safe from any danger. Well, apart from a princess saviour's who wanders around at night disturbing my sleep." He stepped a little closer again. She could smell him once more. Still with a faint hint of leather, but now more clearly the bitter tang of salt and sweat.

"You need to take a bath," she whispered.

"Does my odor offend you?" he chuckled. She could feel his breathing dancing over her, tickling her skin. She ignored his question.

_Why was she here?_

"Now I ask once more, why are you here my lady?"

"Why are  _you_ here?" she countered, folding her arms tighter, as if that could protect her from him somehow.

"I was given an invitation and I accepted."

"So it has nothing to do with me?" she pressed.

"Why?" he muttered, moving fractionally closer, "Do you want it to be?" There was a playful lilt to his voice, but the way he was now looking at her was deadly serious. The chill of earlier was replaced by a fiery burn across her chest.

"No," she began hesitantly, "It's just I told you nothing would happen between us and I don't want you to think-"

"Think what?" he urged.

"Think that things would be different. Now we are back."

Parting his lips, he ran his tongue along them, coolly taking his time to respond.

"I would never be so presumptuous."

"Good," she mumbled. "So, remember, nothing will happen between us. Ever." She shook her head firmly and furrowed her brow as if to make her point.

"As you wish." He gave her a small bow before he reached out to push away a strand of hair that had come loose from her ponytail and fell over her eye. "And you just had to wake me up in the middle of the night to tell me this."

"Yes," she whispered, more uncertain that ever as to why she was here, now, with him, inches apart in a small private room.

"If you say so," he quipped.

Why did he do that? He always had to have the last word. Every single time. And it drove her crazy.

"Killian, don't-"

"You called me Killian," he interrupted, a look of wide eyed wonder falling across his features.

"That is your name, you asked us earlier-"

"Aye, I did," he smiled.

Another silence between them. Eyes meeting eyes. In the early morning darkness, his seemed softer somehow less harsh. It was as though without his pirate garb he almost became someone else. She dropped her gaze to his chest, dark with hair and criss crossed with the lines of ancient fading scars. What a life he must have lived…

"I should go," she told him.

"Perhaps," he replied.

Then somehow, her hand was again on his chest, this time tracing those scars with her forefinger. She heard him gasp slightly, and then his hand began to weave its way into her hair. "So many…" she marvelled. "Did it hurt? Whatever caused this?" she asked.

"A little," he admitted, "But pain of the body is far less wounding than pain of the heart." His words made her eyes flash to the tattoo that adorned his wrist. Milah. He had lost her. And his brother too. So much loss.

Without thinking she reached down and began to lay a small trail of kisses along the length of each scar – his breathing quickening and slightly shuddering as she worked. His hand tightened in her hair as his other arm hung limply by his side. "Emma," he whispered.

Smoothing both hands over his chest, she pushed them up until they hooked over the lean muscles of his shoulders. Absentmindedly, she let her fingers dance across his skin. It was softer than she imagined, always hidden by his armor - his usual attire. Here he was stripped bare.

When his lips met the skin of her forehead, she felt heat begin to pool inside her. Tenderly he moved down the curve of her cheek in soft, almost undetectable kisses, until he met the corner of her mouth.

"Killian-" she began. This would stop now. She would leave; she was tired and probably still a little drunk.

But then he kissed her. Softly, slowly, gently. And she let him. Clasping her hands around his neck, she reached up into the kiss, sliding her tongue over his, matching his movements.

She nudged him backwards, towards the small bed that was pushed into one corner. In unison they sat, leaning into each other, neither wanting to break the kiss. His hand began to slip from her hair, pulling out her hair tie as it did, sliding down the small bones of her spine until it reached the hem of her shirt.

He hesitated, until she gave him a small permissive nod. Slowly, his toughened, calloused hand crept up the warm expanse of skin that was her back. She arched herself into his touch; feeling sparks of desire igniting with every second of contact.

Falling back into the softness of the bed, he moved until he was above her, a knee on each side of her body. Looking up she shuddered a little. There he was; a majestic example of a man. Toughened, scarred, but laid bare for her, wanting her.

"Are you cold?"

She shook her head. Sliding her arms around his back, she felt the mood change. She had given her permission. He knew why she was here. And so did she.

_She wanted him._

Hungrily, he pulled up her tank top, wrapping his hookless arm around her as he did. He panted slightly as he paused and took in her nakedness. "Beautiful," he said simply as moved to explore her bared skin with his lips and tongue.

As he worked, her hands ran through his hair, thick with the salt of the ocean – so wild and begging to be tugged and owned. When his tongue found a nipple, she cried out, a spark shooting right to her core. Instinctively she slung her legs around his hips and felt his heat and growing hardness settle against her.

Oh, she missed this. The touch, the closeness, the intimacy. A man in her bed had been a fleeting occupant these years past. A way to scratch an itch. To ease the tension inside. Disposable.

But this; this felt like so much more.

His face hovered over hers once more, etched upon it a sweet, almost childlike smile of wonder. The pendants around his neck danced upon her chest. She reached up and touched his stubble covered cheek. Inside her something flipped.

This was definitely so much more.

"May I make love to you Miss Swan?"

His question took her by surprise and pulled her from her thoughts. Love? Make love…

The first thing to enter her mind she blurted out, "I thought pirates didn't make love."

"I wasn't always Captain Hook," he soothed, his hand carving the curve of her hips, until his fingers grasped the waist of her pants and slowly pulled them down her legs. All the time looking into her eyes. Always looking into her eyes.

Then his hand eased between her legs, her knees parting obediently. Still watching her, he slid his palm against her hotness, allowing a finger to delve into her damp warmth. At first slowly, gently, as if he was testing to see that this was allowed. She gave him a hint of a smile and then gasped as he pushed inside her. Instantly her legs tightened around his hand, drawing him in.

As he worked inside her, bubbles of pleasure began to rise. Aching to feel his mouth on hers again, she lifted her head upwards and nipped at his lips, beckoning him downwards until she could feel the heat and pressure of his body laying against hers - the satisfying weight of him intensifying her pleasure.

Their kiss was playful, teasing even, at first. The dual sensations building up the want between them: an invisible tie that joined the two and grew tighter, squeezing their bodies together. She began to rock against his hand, kissing him harder and faster, soft little moans peppering their embrace until the rising swell inside of her became too much and she let go, crashing in waves around him as pressed kisses into her neck.

It was everything, it was all she wanted and needed. But she knew it wasn't enough. She needed more.

As the ripples of pleasure dulled, he lay down beside her. She sat up, looking at this beautiful, giving man who seemed to be in some state of bliss as he twirled a strand of blonde hair around his finger.

"Oh, Emma…"he smiled again. Smiling for her.

"Make love to me," she asked. Her voice sincere, her tone soft.

She took hold of the sweats that were his last layer of defense and pulled them down quickly. She wanted him, needed him. Now she understood what had drawn her to his room that night: something magical was happening in that small, cold room.

"As you wish," he replied, one arm pushed her back onto the bed as his knee nudged her still throbbing legs apart. He settled for a moment. She could feel the rounded tip of his erection sliding against her. The desire began to build again. "Emma," he whispered as he pushed inside her, inch by glorious inch.

Her lips formed into a large O. She was holding her breath. Her body tensed. He gazed down at her, his expression open and full of wonder. Each tilt of his hips moved him deeper, until she felt like she would burst if he continued. Stilling, he let her body stretch and relax around him.

"My love," he breathed as he slowly withdrew, all the time watching her, marveling as she lay beneath him.

Slow and tender he continued, muttering sweet nothings under his breath, laying the occasional kiss upon her face. He rolled his hips into her, hitting each spot of pleasure in turn. In turn, she rocked up into him: the friction against her bundle of nerves and the growing pressure inside her pushing up into her throat.

Don't stop, never stop, don't stop…

The words echoed around her mouth as she felt herself begin to drown in him once more, her mind swimming, becoming enveloped by sensation and emotion as he kept the same, steady, measured pace. She didn't want this to end. Had to hold on…

"Killian," she shuddered, digging her heels into his buttocks as he began to thrust harder, sensing her unraveling.

"Let go," he soothed.

"No-"

"For me," he urged.

Those words were her undoing. Pulling down her remaining defenses, she let him ride her into a crescendo; collapsing into herself as he sought out his own release before crumpling down upon her. Heavy breaths were the only sound as he nuzzled into her neck. Her body felt spent: physically, emotionally. Finally he lifted himself and lay beside her, pushed together in the small space.

"What just happened?" she asked as the fog of desire began to clear.

"You just let a pirate make love to you, darling." His voice was teasing. Was he testing her again?

"You're not a pirate."

"No?"

"No," she replied flatly. She yawned. It was late. The adrenaline of the last hour or so had faded and tiredness was rapidly descending.

"I'd better go to bed." With one arm she moved to sit. She didn't want to talk about this. Not yet, anyway. She felt the warm grasp of his hand around her wrist.

"Stay?" he asked. His eyes, the bluest of blue, begged her softly.

There were a million reasons to leave and only one to stay.

"Okay," she nodded, sliding back down the bed whilst he pulled a thick blanket over the two.

Silently, he wrapped and arm around her, cocooning his body with her own. The sounds of breathing in the room slowed as sleep took hold.

"Emma, why did you come here?" he asked, one last time.

"For you," she replied sleepily, "I came here for you."

* * *

Warm, strong arms wrapped around her. Drowsy kisses trailed lazily up her neck. The regular rhythm of a rising chest was at her back. Bare skin pressed against bare skin.

_Bliss_.

She sighed to herself. If you had told her twenty four hours ago that this would be where she was waking up this morning, well… she would have laughed you right out of town.

But there she was, nestled within the arms of fairy tale character from a realm far away (who also happened to be a pirate) and all she could feel right now was pure, unadulterated pleasure. The rights and wrongs and hows and ifs of the situation were pushed to the back of her mind, I'll think about that later, she told herself.

He groaned softly behind her, laying a muscular, athletic leg over her hip and nudging her to face him. Obediently she acquiesced, turning so her face was now nestled against the smattering of hair that covered his chest. She rubbed her cheek against it. It felt so good and right.

"Morning," he smiled, his voice deep and raspy. He kissed her forehead with his warm, slightly damp lips and she felt herself melt a little.  _This wasn't supposed to_   _happen_. With his maimed arm around her waist, he pulled her hips towards his, whilst his hand cupped her face - his thumb rubbing over the curve of her cheek. "You look so beautiful in the morning. Bare. Honest."

With a small, coy smile she looked up into this sparkling blue eyes – so open and true, no sass, no sarcasm. A  _revelation_.

"I bet you say that to all the ladies," she mumbled, brushing away his compliment. Testing him.

His eyes flickered down her face, pausing at her lips, "Oh no my love, quite the contrary." He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "And to what do you refer to, 'all the ladies'?" His voice was playful but there was a hint of something deeper.

Settling a little away for him, she began once again, to trace those faint scars across his chest. Lashes? Was that what caused them?

"Oh now don't tell me the great Captain Hook hasn't had a lot of women." She avoided his gaze.

A quick intake of breath was followed by, "In another lifetime, perhaps," he crooked his finger under her chin and lifted her head, "But all I am concerned with now is the beautiful woman in my bed."

A tingle, cold and broad, ran down her spine. Her lips parted as they stared at one another. It seemed that they had always been this: had this thing, this bond. Being in his bed seemed as natural as taking in air. His arm around her felt like an extension of her own body. His heart beat throbbed in tandem with hers.

She slipped a hand up to his neck and let her fingers play with the curling nape of his hair. Both just looking into one another's eyes. The eyes are indeed the window to the soul. In his she saw the lost young boy he once was, the earnest young officer, the damaged man who had felt so much pain, the ruthless avenger and, dominating it all, Killian. The man who she was with now, who was none of these and yet them all at the same time. She saw that now.

"What do you think this means? What happened last night…" she asked.

He began to push strands of hair away from her face, concentrating on his task until she was completely exposed.

"Well?" she prodded.

"I don't know my love, but I can tell you it's going to be fun finding out."

She couldn't help but smile at his words, her heart lifting at his bold confidence in whatever it was that was happening between them.

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

"What?"

"'My  _love_ '." She pulled a face as she spoke, stretching out the words as though they hurt to say.

Dipping his forehead to meet hers, she held her breath, her eyes slipping closed as they met. His hand began to draw lazy circles on her shoulder, she knew. She understood. He didn't have to say anything.

"Because that's what you are, dear Emma."

The combination of his closeness, his words, their naked skin and the million thoughts in her head all became too much. Panting a little, she struggled into a seated position. "It's almost seven. I'd better go." She reached down for her pajama pants that had been left carelessly strewn on the floor.

"Come on lass, just a little while longer." His hand grasped her hip and she gasped in shock, desire quickly flooding her body again. His touch the only aphrodisiac needed.

Whipping her head around, she caught his eye, "No, what if David or Mary Margaret saw, I-" her voice trailed off. The excuses in her head would probably sound stupid to him. He didn't understand.

"You don't want mother and father to know what you've been up to," he raised his eyebrows suggestively, tucking his arms under his head as he lay back. He looked so dangerous and arrogant and attractive. A shudder of want went through her. He was doing this on purpose.

"My life is my own," she insisted as she began to tug on her pants with one hand, self-consciously covering her breasts with the other, "But I think this falls into the category need to know information."

"As you wish my love, and please don't cover yourself on my account, I was quite enjoying the view."

And there was the sass again. That flirtatious edge to his voice that made her want him so much she felt mad at herself.

Finally clothed, she turned back to face her conquest, her lover. Still lying lazily across the bed, cushioned by his arms, his modest barely covered by the white sheet that was wrapped around one leg, hints of dark hair peeking out and hinting at something more beneath.

"See anything you like?" he teased.

"Hook-"

" _Killian_ -" he reminded her, before he reached forth and took hold of her arm, pulling her down on top of him. She cried softly in surprise, panting softly as she lay on his chest.

"You don't need to be like this," she whispered, her lips so close to his, she could kiss him with a simple tilt of the head. It was so, so tempting… A flicker of recognition passed over his features. Perhaps she wasn't the only one with uncertainties: the only one unsure what was happening. "Now I need to go, and you need to stay and we will talk about this later." She ended her statement with a slow, deep kiss which seemed to take him by surprise.

She hopped off the bed and reached for the door, turning around to give him one last look, "Oh and Killian?"

"Hmm?" he murmured.

"I don't regret it."

And though she turned around quickly, she was sure she saw a smile begin to form on his lips.

* * *

Showered, buffed, cleansed and dressed in a fresh pair of jeans and a soft sweater, she bounded down the stairs, a happy lift to her step. The smell of coffee filled the air as did the crackle of something being cooked on the skillet. Her stomach rumbled happily, she hadn't actually eaten yesterday and now she was starved.

"Morning!" she hollered as she turned into the living room, stopping in her tracks as she saw two faces sat together at the table – but not the two she expected.

"Good morning Emma," came his silky reply. His hair was still ruffled - though he'd managed to pull on some clothing. Deep inside her something tightened as images from the night before replayed through her mind.

"Are you alright honey?" asked her mother. She had been frozen for a few seconds, not sure what to do or say.

She shook her head and smiled, walking over to the coffee pot and pouring out a cup, "Fine, just thinking what a busy day I have today."

The sound of food being moved onto plates came from the kitchen. "You're going to work today?" asked David, as he appeared beside them with a platter of bacon and eggs, "You should rest."

"Aye lass, take the day off, spend a little time in  _bed_ ,  _relaxing,"_  Killian added softly.

Shooting him a look, she grabbed a plate and began to spear slices of bacon with a fork, replying, "I like to keep busy."

Her father took the chair next to Mary Margaret meaning she had no choice to but place herself within hands reach of the man who had just made love to her mere hours ago. Her body still ached and her mind was struggling to process the events that took place in that small room, but she forced a tight lipped smile as she sat, digging into her plate, and filling the silence with food. She knew he was watching her eat. Always watching her. She prayed they didn't notice. No, this was not a conversation she wanted to be having… yet. What the hell would she say anyway?  _Hey mom, dad I just slept with this guy in the room next to yours, I'm off to work, see you later!_ Nuh-uh. She'd think about this later.

The other three chatted animatedly about the evening before as she remained silent, chewing quickly, taking large gulps of coffee until she finally stood and pushed her plate away. "David, that was great and now I'd better be going, so much to do."

"On a Sunday?" he mother asked questioningly.

"Paperwork," she smiled, picking up her jacket from the chair where she had left it last night. "See you later," she called as she turned for the door. She was just opening the handle when she heard his voice again.

"Swan, wait!" With a deep sigh she turned to face him. She wanted to deal with this later – clear her mind of his face and the feel of his arms around her last night.

Reaching the door, he paused a foot away, looking down at her with a softness she had not seen since the evening before. "We need to talk," he whispered.

"Later," she promised.

"Today," he urged, giving her a deep, burning stare which made her feel like he could see right into her soul. She shifted a little from foot to foot, feeling herself melt under his gaze – being drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Finally she gave up.

"The station. Two pm."

With a curt nod, he turned and returned to the table. As she closed the door, she could hear him making an excuse about seeing if he could be of any assistance at the sheriff's office. Such a cool liar, she thought. But she was thankful all the same.

* * *

On the dot at two pm he was there, sat on her desk, arms folded across his chest. Her heart jumped despite herself. The way he held his body was so damn alluring. So confident and nonchalant - it drew her towards him like a magnet. She could admit to herself now what he did to her. Now that, now that- what? What were they?

She drew closer, noting with a hint of disappointment that his usual leather had been replaced with a pair of jeans and a soft flannel shirt – clearly courtesy of David. "And how did you get in here?" she asked as she rounded the desk, standing in front of him, arms crossed.

"Now what would make you think such a thing as a locked door could ever keep me away from you."

She snorted a little; his flirtatious words making her stomach churn, those clever lips of hips begging to be kissed. "Be careful," she advised, stepping closer to him, "Breaking and entering is a felony in this realm."

His knees parted and she nestled between them as he held out his wrists. "Please, I bet your forgiveness. Lock me up and throw away the key."

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" She moved closer, her heart racing – what was going on?

He tilted his head, whispering, "I'd love it," before snatching a kiss from her, hungry and passionate and so different from the night before it took her by surprise and left her breathless.

"Down boy," she panted, lying back against his arm, enjoying the playful glint in his eye as he watched her compose herself. She heaved in a few more breaths before she felt able to continue, the seed of desire brewing inside hidden for the moment. "Now, you wanted to talk?"

"Aye," he nodded, slipping down from the desk, "You and I…"

"Me and you…" she echoed.

"Well my love, you can't leave a man hanging forever."

She furrowed her brow and took a step backwards, "Please, Killian, it's barely been twelve hours since we-"

Her breath caught as she realised she didn't know what to say. They had made love, she knew that, but to say it in the cool harsh light of day seemed so huge and definite she couldn't form the words.

"Made love," he finished for her, making her stomach contract a little and a small team of butterflies take residence within.

"Yeah," she whispered. On the desk behind him she began to shuffle papers and files nervously, "We need time to process this, decide what we want."

"Oh I know what I want love," he assured her, before he caught her wrist with his hook, stilling it as the cool metal made her skin erupt in tiny goosepimples, "And deep down my love I think you do too."

Carefully she disentangled herself from his appendage, meeting his eyes, "You're awfully confident," she reasoned.

"So I'm told," was his response, dipping his head a little and giving her that longing, dangerous look he saved for her that made her want to reach out and dig her hands in his hair and wrap her legs around his waist.

"Well as the case may be, things are complicated here. Whatever happens – it's on my terms," he nodded a little, "I have a son and family to think of. They come first."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he promised, tugging her close once more and drawing her lips to his.

She could kiss him for eternity. He was quite the expert – alternating soft playful nips, tender pressing of lips and deep, soul shuddering movements that kept her on her toes, waiting to see where he would take them next. A part of her wished she had let him kiss her again long ago – not held back and insisted he meant nothing to her. That was a lie - a lie that was now exposed by her pliancy in his arms and welcoming acceptance of the passion he was pouring into her, making her forget her earlier protestations and misgivings and simply live in the moment.  
The sound of a door swinging open broke the spell and sent her tumbling away from him.

"Emma?" came her father's voice, "Emma? Your mother and I-" he paused when he turned the corner to her desk. The somewhat suspicious scene of a silent Emma and Hook mere inches away, both short of breath, did not seem lost on him. Quietly, he placed the brown paper bag in his hand down on his own desk, "We thought you might like a homemade sandwich."

"Thanks," she croaked, her cheeks colouring red. She felt like she had been caught under the bleachers with the high school bad boy. What must he be thinking? "Hook and I were just-" she stopped, he mind blank, words evading her.

"Just talking about how I could help around here. If I decide to stay," he finished for her, giving her a pointed look.

"Okay…" David replied uncertainly, his eyes clearly taking his ruffled hair and flushed cheeks.

"Yeah, um, maybe he could help. Perhaps. We'll have to talk about it."

"Sure," David nodded, a glint in his eye, "Well I'd better go, I'm picking up Henry from Regina's."

"Great, tell him I'll see him tonight." She finally began to relax a little. Perhaps he hadn't noticed. Perhaps…

As he left, Killian began to chuckle softly. "Well that was interesting."

"Do you think he saw? Did he notice anything?"

"No, my love, I think he didn't see anything as such, but the look on his face tells me he certainly suspected something."

"Urgh," she groaned, pushing her face into her hands, this was all she needed.

"Can I ask, why does it bother you so? We are both adults. We can do as and who we please." The sexy, teasing tone was back and she felt her belly rumble a little. She wanted him again. And again. And again.

"I've told you, it's not quite that simple," she explained, pressing a hand on the soft cotton that covered his chest, "Give me time," she whispered.

"As you wish," was his reply, ending in another soul searching kiss.

* * *

Henry was tucked up in bed, sleeping silently. Her parents had also decided on an early night, David's excuse of work had made her roll her eyes. She wasn't clueless to the fact her parents were technically the same age as her and had the same urges and needs.

This reflection made it all the more apparent how empty her own bed was and had been for so long. So closed off to even the possibility of being shared with another that she hadn't even considered it. It was lonely and tiresome being strong and independent. In her worse moments she had pined for someone to share the load, ease her burden, whisper those words of encouragement that only a lover could. But she had held back, built a wall around her heart that the tallest ladder couldn't reach and the strongest will couldn't shatter.

A cold empty bed seemed such a symbol of who she had let herself become, well, until recently. She was an island, distant and apart from the rest of the world. Seemingly operating within it but at the same time, closed off and separate. But then a little boy had picked away at the mortar that had held those bricks, shown her she could love and be loved in return. That she didn't have to be alone any more. That she could open up and share her life with another person and that not every connection resulted in loss and pain.

Her mind flickered to Killian. His want for her, his belief, the burning fire in his eyes when he thought she wasn't looking. Should she let him in? Could she trust him? Was it worth it?

These questions streamed through her mind as she opened the door to her room. She let out a little gasp as she saw the man who occupied her thoughts, laying on her bed like he belonged there, giving her a smile that made her melt.

And all the questions faded away as she dived into his arms. All that mattered right now was the moment. And in this moment all the needed was him.

**_Reviews are always appreciated and the only way I get feedback..._ **


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